


Nectar

by 2x2verse (agent_florida), Mystical



Series: The Big Banging Theory [3]
Category: Homestuck
Genre: Daddy Kink, M/M, Orgasm Denial, service top dave, slight daddy kink, sort of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-17
Updated: 2013-03-17
Packaged: 2017-12-05 13:55:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,121
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/724038
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/agent_florida/pseuds/2x2verse, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mystical/pseuds/Mystical
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>you don't love but god do you yearn for him, yearn until your heart beat-beats, beat-beats in your chest and you'll rip apart the entire galaxy for him but you don't love him, you don't, you don't and he's your entire world.</p><p>(john loves being penetrated and dave doesn't know what to do because with him he has to be careful, with him he has to be slow and it's so different from everyone else he's had sex with because with john there's always this veil of denial, this delicacy that will shatter if you so much as prod it with a feather.<br/>he can do slow. Goddamn can he do slow, in all the times they've had sex he's always been slow, always went along with what john wanted but now that he was in a position of power he didn't know what to do.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Nectar

**Author's Note:**

  * For [agent_florida](https://archiveofourown.org/users/agent_florida/gifts).
  * Inspired by [Nyeah](https://archiveofourown.org/works/718613) by [2x2verse (agent_florida)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/agent_florida/pseuds/2x2verse), [Mystical](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mystical/pseuds/Mystical). 



> basically I like writing things for people it makes me feel good  
> and it spun rapidly out of control jesus fuck look at the length of jay's porn  
> this is the longest thing I've ever written and it's all their fault  
> (jay we should make this a legit series with one of us being coauthors or something because there's gonna be more and we both know it)

“Good boy,” he breathes as he runs his hands past your shoulderblades, presses against your spine and you shiver and light up everywhere he touches.

_need need need you need him he needs you_

Your fingers frame his face, dip into the tendons on his neck, flick over his clavicle and he watches you, just watches. You feel a buzz in your spine, feel it build from your guts to your neck to behind your red, red eyes. You love showing off for him. You love watching him watch you, watching you wreck him just from the sight of your body, the sound of your voice and you make sure to make noise, lots and lots of noise, breathy little sighs and sugar-sweet gasps just for him.

Maybe next time you’ll tie his arms to the headboard, bind his wrists above his head and make him watch as you work yourself open, as you sink down on him, make him squirm with want of touching you. You wonder how fast he’ll cum.

“What’re you smiling about?”

“Nothing.” His face morphed into a frown, then a pout, and you chuckle. You won’t talk about it. You never do, because talking means acknowledging, and acknowledgement isn’t something he’s ready for. That’s fine. That’s okay. You’ll wait however long it takes for him to come to terms with it; you’ll wait forever if you have to. So you’re roommates who fuck, best friends who fuck, best friends rooming together who fuck sometimes even when you’re dating other people. You’ve come to terms with it long ago, after the second or third time, never hide it from any of your potential love interests, but then again you always were pretty open-minded. More open-minded than Egbert, at the very least.

Your fingers dance down his chest, brushes a nipple, and he bites his lip. Both your hands wander down, presses against his stomach and he sighs and slowly unfurls, every muscle relaxing.

“Good?” you ask because you’re genuinely curious. You’ve done this countless times, you know what he likes but you still want to ask, just to make sure, just to check. You don’t want to hurt him.

(you want to take him high, as high as he’ll go and higher still because god knows he deserves it)

“Yeah.” His breath is a sigh and you lean down, kiss his plump stomach, his chest, nosing around his sparse forest of curls. God, he’s covered in them, covered in just the right amount and it’s so different from you, so different from you who’s mostly naked and it’s so fucking manly you just.

He croons when you swipe your tongue over a nipple, croons so unbelievably sweet you’re getting cavities. A shiver works its way down your body as you scrape your teeth against the sensitive nub and bite right above where pink meets skin.

“Dave,” he moans and he’s vocal, he’s a screamer, you love that, you fucking love that about him and already your dick is hardening in your jeans. You lick your way up his neck, placing light, barely-there hickies on his skin and nip your way down his chin. Your bottom lip brushes over the corner of his mouth, drawing out another noise, another delicious noise that has your insides melting.

“Tell me what to do,” you murmur because you need it, you need him to guide you, need him to tell you how to touch him. You know he loves bottoming, loves having things in his ass despite his adamant claims of “no-homo!” and you’ll give, oh, you’ll willingly give to him.

(you don’t love him, of course you don’t, this is John, this is your roommate and your best bro and sometimes your heart beats for him, beats so much you feel it’ll burst from the strength of what you feel but you don’t  _love_  him.)

He raises his hand, fingers lingering against your neck, your cheek, and you subconsciously nudge closer to his touch. “Keep doing what you’re doing,” he says. His entire body is one long inhale, a tense line, a coiled snake and if you hit the wrong spot you’re scared he might puncture, break beneath you. Still you press your hands to his chest, down his sides, lingers near his legs, thick, meaty legs that you want wrapped around your waist as you pound into him, as you move a vibrator in and out and he’ll squirm beneath you and he’ll make the most beautiful sounds and oh god. You whine against his neck, bite down hard enough to leave an obvious hickey, a red mark that’ll show vividly for weeks instead of the light kisses that’ll fade within a day and he laughs and  _there’s_  his exhale, every muscle relaxing underneath you.

“What’s so funny, asshole?” you grumble even though you’re glad, and bite back a gasp when his hand curls to cup your erection.

“You’re so sensitive, Dave. Do I really do that to you?”

You see it before he does, the inevitable ‘oh-no,’ the mortification of having something slip past your tongue.

You shrug. “Duh.” like it’s the most obvious thing in the world, geez Egbert, took you that long to notice? Even as you move your mouth down his body, your throat aches to say more, far more than you already have but you hold back because it’s too early, too early and it’s not you, it’s him, you’ll let him lead, let him go about things at his own pace. “What do you want?” you ask again because this is why he needs to lead you, this is why he’s in control because you’ll do anything and you don’t know what he’s ready for.

Your breath hitches when he runs his hand up your jean-clad thighs, your skinny stick thighs and cups you in his hand. “God,” and even that, even that little amount of pressure is enough for you to nudge your hips forward, to seek out more, moremoremoremoremore fuck he needs to just  _touch you_  already.

 You whimper and look at the growing lump in his pants, hands reaching down automatically because you want to see, you _need_  to see but he traps your wrists and you whine at the loss, an obscenely loud sound that makes both your ears turn red.

He’s grinning, that devilish bastard, grinning at you even as he blushes up a storm, from the tips of his ears to the center of his chest. “Not yet,” is all he says.

A protest lives and dies on your lips because you know, you know he’s not ready, you know he’s not prepared but  _god_  you need it, you need it like burning. “Alright.” You swipe your tongue over your chapped lips and he watches you, watches you and his gaze is so fucking predatory you shudder from the intensity of it. “Dammit,” you breathe when his hands land on your thighs and even through your jeans he has to feel the way you’re shaking, and they look so big, slim fingers almost wrapping entirely around their girth.

His thumb moves in slow circles against your inner thigh and you’re trembling, doing all you can to hold yourself together. You’re so hard you swear you’ll tear your pants open and even through denim you see a dark patch forming. When you shift your dick rubs against the seam of your jeans and you let out a soft gasp, biting your lip. “John…” and you’re this close to begging.

He knows it, of course he does, and he twists his hands and grazes his fingers along your inner thighs. You whimper and clench the sheets, needing something to ground you, to hold you together. “Please,” you moan again and when you look at his eyes they’re darkened, hooded with lust.

“Look at you.” His voice is soft as he moves his hands to your hips and you’re trembling, helpless under his touch. “I haven’t even done anything yet and you’re already…”

He trails off, blush darkening, and it’s so fucking endearing how he can’t say it, how, try as he might, those words never make it past his tongue. That’s okay. Just gives you more reason to lean down and whisper things in his ear, salacious things that has him squirming and gasping and clutching the covers. You speak enough for the both of you, but now, now you’re silent, wanton under his gaze and you hope he knows he can do anything, say anything and you’ll do it, you’re putty under his hands, always have and always will be.

(he’s the only one you’ll let control you this way, he’s the only one you trust to give this much of yourself to and sex with other people is phenomenal but it’s shared, trading back and forth and even when one is in a submissive position they still hold some of the power. Now, though, now you’re wholly and completely under his control and it feels so  _good_  to let go, to let him tell you what to do and you love it you love it you love it [but you don’t love him])

“Take off your pants,” he says after clearing his throat, and your fingers immediately fly to your button and zippers, trying to remove them but they’re tight, so tight and every movement sends a surge through your cock. You want to bite down, fuck, you want to muffle your voice on something, anything but he loves you like this, loves you helpless and unable to hold back the sounds you make.

Finally you manage to work through the button and zipper and shuck your pants and boxers in one go. Hello there boner, how’s old Bartholomew doing today? Almost as if reading your mind, John pipes up, “If you start talking to it, I will leave. Right now.”

You pout. “C’mon, don’t be like that.” You bob your hips, Bartholomew bouncing along with you, already drooling precum onto his stomach. “No one’ll work for you if you don’t say hi to them, that’s just common sense, dude. Don’t be rude to Bartholomew. It’s okay,“ you say, directing your attention to your dick. You dip your fingers into the precum and bite back a soft noise as you coat it around the head. “John loves you, he’s just an ass.”

“Right now, Dave.”

“No, dude, look.” You point at your dick, still drooling onto his stomach. “You made him cry. That’s just not cool, Egbert, you hurt his feelings.”

He holds your deadpan for about five seconds before looking away and laughing. “You’re such a loser.”

“This isn’t about me, it’s about Bartholomew, look at him, he looks so- ahh…” His thumb comes up, wipes the precum away from the slit, the head, and he – keeps rubbing and you’re trying to not buck but it’s hard,  _so_  hard to hold yourself back. “Fuck,” you whimper. “Fuck, fuck, fuck-“

He pulls away, reaches up and paints a strip of your cum from the top of your cheeks to your lips, and you welcome his finger into your mouth, greedily sucking it in. “I wiped his tears away,” he says, smile softening his exasperated tone. “Am I forgiven?”

You nod and moan around his thumb when he cups your balls because the mood’s lightened but you’re no less aroused, and so isn’t he. He pulls his thumb out of your mouth and you almost to chase it, god you love it when he makes you do that, shuts you up by forcing things into your mouth. “Take off my pants, Dave,” he says, voice soft and you almost scramble to obey, shaking fingers unbuttoning his jeans, sliding down the zipper, and he bites his lip at the soft vibrations it sends through his dick. And it looks so inviting, so thick and big you can’t help but bend down and lap at it.

His moan is pornographic and he twists his hand in your hair, tugging, hard, and you don’t know whether he wants to pull you off or force his dick down your throat. Either option makes you shiver. “Dave,” he says as you place sucking kisses on the underside of his dick. “Dave, hnngh, oh!” as you lick him from base to tip. “Stop,” he sobs. “Stop, stop,” when you take his head into your mouth, when you press your tongue against his slit, working the barbell of your piercing around the sensitive area even as a new flood of flavour hits your tongue. He tugs again and this time it’s unmistakable, this time he’s telling you to stop and get off before he blows and you tease him for a few more seconds before popping your mouth off of him.

“Shut up,” he grumbles pre-emptively when you look at him, and you can’t help laughing.

“What’s the matter?” you purr, propping your chin on his hip and batting your eyes, the effect lost behind your shades. “Daddy, I just wanna lick your dick.”

And that does it. You  _feel_  his cock pulse beside you, holy shit, that’s hot, as he lets out a strangled gasp and grips himself under the head. “Lube,” he says and fuck he sounds like he wants to ruin you, wants to rip you apart with his bare hands and listen to you scream and you can’t think of anything hotter.

(you’re so glad you found that kink. thanks nepeta)

“Right.” You shift over, rummage in the side drawer, swearing as the lube keeps slipping from your hands, and John would tease you but at this angle you’re pressing his cock with your thigh, just enough to tease, just enough to make him dig his teeth into his lips and fist his shaking hands in the covers. “Gotcha,” you mutter when you finally grab it and straighten up over him, and he’s so gorgeous, such a gorgeous mess as he pants beneath you. “Should I wait-“

He shakes his head. “Now,” he whispers, spreading his legs under you and god it’s like he’s practically begging you to finger him, to touch him and you’re about to have a fucking aneurysm or something, holy shit.

You pop open the lube, drizzle it on your fingers until they’re completely wet and gingerly push one in. “More,” he demands and he’s so greedy, so impatient and you love it, fuck, you love it, you love reducing him to this state. He  _screams_  when you brush against his prostate and you have to fist your cock, have to give yourself that extra burst of relief because god the fucking sounds he makes. You want to tie him up, tease him, make him scream and moan and pant over and over again. Maybe you’ll use it in your mixes, weave him in amongst the thudding bass, play it and everyone will be all over each other-

He’s pushing his hips into your hand. “Put it in,” he says, voice thick and demanding and you have to swallow to keep from literally drooling.

“You sure?” You hardly recognize that voice as your’s because it’s low, dark, and so fucking needy fuck you just want to fuck him god he looks so inviting right now, all spread out for you. “I barely prepped you.”

“Yes,” he groans. “Fuck, yes, Dave, please, please-“

You can’t drizzle lube over your cock fast enough, rubbing it into every groove and moaning at the feel of it. And he’s still begging, still wanting,  _John Egbert is begging for your dick_  and who are you to deny him?

“Yes,” he purrs when you slip past that first ring of muscle, and you remember when you first did this, how hard it was, how he was so tight it almost hurt. You’re absurdly proud when you slip in easily, but he’s still tight, so tight and now that you’ve stopped using condoms you can feel him  _everywhere,_  fucking everywhere and he’s moaning, begging, “ _Yes,”_  as you brush his prostate again. He wraps his legs around your waist, nails digging into your back and you moan at the feel of it, moan when he touches you.

“John,” you croon and bury your face in his neck and he’s so tight and hot and- “I can’t, John, I can’t hold it, fuck-“

“Hold it,” he tells you and you bite his neck in retaliation, bite the marks you’ve already made and his fingers tighten on your back, moving under you to try and meet your erratic thrusts. You’re spinning, falling, so dizzy and so hot and trying to aim for his prostate every time because you  _can’t_ , can’t hold it, it’s too much, too much-

“Please,” you’re gasping. “Please, please, please, please-“

He stiffens under you, and you let out an embarrassingly loud groan when he tightens around you, splatters both your bellies with his cum. It feels so  _good_ , he feels so good and all you want is to cum, “Hnngh, fuck, I can’t,  _daddy-_ “

He jerks under you and you realize that’s him cumming again, fuck. “Yes,” he’s telling you, and you swear his nails will flay you, dig through your skin until he finds your spine and snap it rung by rung. “Come, come in me, Dave, now-“

You bite his shoulder and come and he greedily sucks you in, walls tightening around you and you’re moaning, breathing wet and hot onto his skin.  _Should’ve used a condom,_  you think as you pull out and your release drips out of his hole, onto the sheets, but the rest of you is too tired to care.

You collapse on him, sore and sweaty and tired, so tired. You’ve never done this before, never cuddled, never stayed after… that, but he doesn’t hesitate to wrap his arms around you, hugs your slight weight to him and presses a tired kiss to your neck. It’s… nice, this intimacy. It’s nice to just touch and not have to do anything.

(and you don’t love him, you don’t you don’t but at times like this, times like now you swear you’ll tear down the world for him, carve out each chunk of yourself until you’re an empty husk because no one should hurt him, no one should lay hands on him and even as he goes out and dates and fucks other people there’s a part of him that will always belong to you and you cling to it, cling to it as much as he clings to the part of you that belongs to him and your heart hurts with how much you care)

You fall asleep with him breathing beneath you, and when you wake up the next morning, you both don’t mention a thing.


End file.
